Part 24 (1/2)

For Cato, the day was one of conflicted emotion. His newfound and unquenchable thirst for the teachings of Jeremiah left him cold over the thought of honoring Vulcan in his home. And Valerius's impending visit had driven Ariella deep into the house-and into herself-where he was unable to draw her out.

He spent the morning in the wine shop, hoping for distraction and finding it in the surly comments of Remus, who was still convinced that both the vines and the business would fail. Cato remembered his early dedication to both as though it were distant past now, so focused was he on the coming election and Portia's fate.

The wine shop had taken on a cheerier appearance since those early days, due to Remus's efforts to clean up and whitewash the walls. The amphorae that lined the shelves were empty, awaiting the start of the harvest in a few short days. Cato counted the amphorae, reciting the sizes and number to Remus, who scratched out marks on a wax tablet.

”Master, he comes!” The slave, Italicus, stood outlined in the doorway, his breath labored.

Cato rubbed at his forehead. ”Valerius? So soon?”

”He is at the Marina Gate.”

Cato grabbed his toga, thrown over the counter, and glanced at Remus. ”I will leave you to it, then, man.”

Remus shrugged as though Cato were a madman bent on destruction and he could do nothing to stop it. ”Blessings of Vulcan on you, then, I suppose.”

Back at the house, Octavia had received the news and emerged to meet him in the atrium, wearing her finest white robes and with her hair piled elaborately atop her head. Cato raised his eyebrows at the effort, but she narrowed her eyes and he would not comment.

She eyed the door. ”We have had replies from all the invited guests. Everyone has accepted. We shall have a full house.”

”And all is ready?”

”Quintus, do you think it will work? Will he reveal Maius to the town? Make them see what kind of man has jailed your sister?”

Cato scratched the back of his neck, damp already. ”I do not know.”

And what kind of man would Valerius be? Was the reputation of the Baccha.n.a.lians perhaps exaggerated?

A cart rolled to a stop in the street, and the time for answers had come. Cato squared off to receive the man he had convinced to make the two-day voyage from Rome, and Octavia stepped to his side and stood tall and erect.

Three slaves lumbered in first, burdened with trunks. And then Valerius appeared in the doorway, slightly built and surprisingly short. He was young enough to stand alone, yet leaned on the arm of a younger man, dressed as a slave. He seemed at first to be infirm, but as the senator moved into the atrium it became clear that his grasp on the slave was one of affection, not need. The slave did not appear to share the sentiment.

Valerius's eyes swept the atrium. He smiled at the dancing faun at the edge of the impluvium, pa.s.sed over Octavia and stopped at Cato, whom he looked up and down. He pursed his lips, then smirked. ”I had heard you were fine-looking, but you are even better than that.”

Cato heard his mother exhale and he put a hand to her back. ”We hope to surpa.s.s all your expectations, Clovius Valerius. Welcome to Pompeii, and to my home.” He turned to Octavia. ”My mother, Octavia of the Catonii.”

Valerius sauntered forward, unaided, and grasped Cato's arm in a weak greeting. He had girlish features and unnaturally red lips, and Cato forced himself to return the grip, rather than shrink back.

”Such a long trip we have had.” Valerius used the corner of his toga to dab at his throat. ”Where can I rest?”

Cato motioned to a nearby slave who hurried forward. ”Italicus will take you to a room.”

Valerius sighed and surveyed the interior of the house. ”It is a crime to be away from my villa on a feast day, and caged out here in the country. You are planning a celebration this evening, I a.s.sume?”

Cato bowed. ”Pompeii's leading citizens will be here to greet and celebrate with you.”

Valerius waved a delicate hand. ”I care nothing about the company of rich men.” He stepped closer to Cato and lowered his voice, as if it would keep Octavia from overhearing. She looked away and Valerius wrapped his fingers around Cato's forearm. ”There are better ways to celebrate than the pompous discourse of fools. You will have women? Boys, perhaps?” His grin became lecherous. ”A little opium mixed with the wine, to honor the G.o.d?”

Cato fought to hold his ground. He could feel the man's breath on his cheek. ”I hope to make it an enjoyable evening for you.”

His noncommittal reply did not seem to please the senator. Valerius stepped back and a furrow formed between his eyebrows. ”You have brought me here to seek something from me, Portius Cato. Understand that I reward those who favor me.” His expression cleared and he clapped his hands together twice. ”I know how you can please me. I hear you have a gladiator here!”

Cato stomach turned over. ”How-”

Valerius waved a hand again. ”I have ears everywhere. Tell me, is it true? Have you bought a boy from the gladiator school?”

Octavia joined the conversation again. ”Why should that interest you?”

”Ah, dear lady, it interests me very much.” He turned on Cato. ”I want to see a fight.”

”There are no games scheduled-”

”Not in the arena, silly man. Here. In your home. Tonight.”

Cato felt his mouth drop open.

”Don't look at me as though I am mad. Bring one of your slaves in, and pit the two against each other for me. Come, don't tell me it's too much trouble after I've come all this way?”

Valerius turned to the slave to lead him to his chamber, as though the matter were decided. Cato watched him cross the courtyard and flounce down the colonnade.

”Vile man.” Octavia's voice was low. She used the same words to describe Nigidius Maius on their first meeting, and, indeed, the two men were much alike in att.i.tude, if not appearance. ”What will you do, Quintus?”

Cato turned away in silence. There was another to whom he needed to speak.

”NEVER. YOU CANNOT ASK me to do this.”

At Ariella's vehement response, Cato rubbed at his throbbing temples. ”I would not, if I did not believe it necessary.”

Her eyes were wide, accusing. ”Necessary to humiliate me?”

He held out his palms. ”Ari, the man demands entertainment, and I fear he will not help me expose Maius if I don't please him. He would have me bring in the worst sort of debauchery, but you could wear your helmet and he would never recognize you.”

He stepped toward her, but she moved away until her back was against the wall, her hands flat against the stone at her sides. ”Nothing has changed, then. You still force me to fight, for the sake of your own popularity!” Her voice pitched higher. ”Why did you not leave me in the barracks where you found me?”

”It is not the same! It is one fight, not even a real fight-only an exhibition. You will be masked and there will be no danger.” He crossed the room to stand before her. ”And I do not ask you for my own sake, but for my sister's.”

”Yes, your sister.” She nearly spat the mocking words in his face. ”Everything is for your sister. You bring my enemy to the door, then force me to perform for him. All for Portia.”

”Yes, for Portia!”

”For yourself, Portius Cato! You would win this election at any cost because if you fail you cannot still consider yourself a man.”

Cato's hand formed an unconscious fist and he pounded the wall beside her head. Ariella winced and turned from him.

”What? Do you think I would strike you?”

She leveled dark eyes at him. ”You have already proven you will do anything to get your way.”